Part 6: Pvt Joseph Lydecker - The War Continued
by Queen's Bishop
Summary: The squad goes out on another routine reconnaissance patrol.
1. I Am a Soldier!

18

 _No infringement on the rights of the owners of "Combat!" is intended. This story is for the enjoyment of "Combat!" fans only, not for any monetary profit by the author._

 _I want to formally thank and acknowledge the huge contribution of Leslie Backus. Without her time and editing skill, this story would never have seen the light of day. Thanks also to JML for proofreading and to Susan Rodriguez for beta reading and offering encouragement._

 **Pvt. Joseph Lydecker**

 **by: Queen's Bishop**

 **Part 6: The War Continued**

 **Chapter 1: I Am a Soldier!**

 **denotes French or German being spoken, depending on the character.**

Summary of previous chapter: **Forgiveness** – Both Sgt. Saunders and Pvt. Lydecker struggled with feelings of guilt and each ultimately found forgiveness.

When Doc and Lydecker returned from their trip to battalion aid, Joey thought about what the medic had said, even if unintentionally. After Caje had talked to him and he had forgiven himself, he had felt a sense of tranquility, not with what was going on all around him, but in his soul. That night, for the first time since his arrival in France, Joey dreamed of the warm, summer days back home.

##########

 _I stand on the edge of the quarry and smile. Below is the cool, refreshing water, so deep that as I stare into it, it looks black. I grab the rope that is tied to the branch of the majestic old oak tree and walk away from the edge, as far as I can. Then, I run toward the drop-off, yelling "GERONIMO!" When I let go of the rope, I hang in the air for an instant before falling. It seems like it takes a long time to hit the water. Then down, down, down I go into that cool, blackness. Finally, I start the long swim back up, eventually seeing the light that marks the surface. My lungs feel like they are going to burst before I reach it, but, just in the nick of time, I make it. As I breathe in the hot, moist air, I have a big, dumb grin on my face because, while I realize how close I had come to not making it at all, I also know I will jump again as soon as I get back up to that rope!_

##########

The war continued. Lt. Hanley led the squad on several reconnaissance missions as the Allies continued to push the German lines back, foot by foot, quarter mile by quarter mile, sometimes against determined resistance and sometimes against none at all. Because of this, King Company had moved up and occupied a new partially destroyed village. First Platoon was billeted on one side of town while Second Platoon held the other. Third Platoon was dug in a short distance away.

The day after the company settled in, Sgt. Saunders hitched a ride back to rejoin his squad on the same truck that was bringing another replacement, Pvt. Hanson, to Second Platoon.

"SARGE! HEY LOOK, THE SARGE IS BACK!" Billy yelled from outside the shop where the squad currently resided.

The rest of the men of First Squad appeared and surrounded their sergeant, talking over each other as they welcomed him back. Pvt. Hanson stood on the outside of the small circle and took in the scene.

"Alright, that's enough," Saunders said with a grin. "I've gotta report in to the lieutenant, an' we've got a new man to get settled."

"Okay, Sarge. Boy, we're sure glad you're back!" Nelson said with his usual enthusiasm.

Kirby chimed in, "Billy's right, Sarge. Lt. Hanley's been runnin' us ragged. Maybe now we'll get a little R&R."

Littlejohn stared at the BAR man. "Kirby, why would you think we'd get R&R just because the Sarge is back?"

"'Cause, ya big ape, the Sarge needs to rest an' recuperate, so the lieutenant is gonna ask the captain to give us a break."

Saunders shook his head. "Kirby, your logic never ceases to amaze me. I'm all rested up."

"You see, mon ami, it will be just like always, up at de crack of dawn and walking all day," Caje said with a laugh.

"My dogs are killin' me already," Kirby moaned.

"C'mon, Hanson…let's check in with the lieutenant," the NCO said as he led the replacement away.

Billy watched Joey pull something out of his shirt pocket and put it in his duffle bag.

"Hey, Joey, whatcha got there?"

"It's the book the sergeant gave me when we visited him at battalion aid. It's called How Green Was My Valley (a), and it's real good. You can read it when Ah'm done."

"I'm not much of a reader," Nelson admitted. "But listen, we've been talking and we're all gonna go out to one of the bars tonight. You're gonna come, too, aren't ya?"

"Ah don't think so, Billy."

"Why not?"

"Ah don't really drink, so Ah'd feel outta place."

"They probably got something besides wine. C'mon, you gotta go."

"Well…okay, but just for a while."

Later, as the men were getting ready to go out, Lydecker stood in front of a cracked mirror someone had found and hung on the wall. He was again examining his chin line, turning his head from one side to the other and rubbing his fingers over his cheeks. Kirby walked up to him and put his arm around the young soldier's shoulder.

"Whatcha doin', Joey?"

"Just seeing if maybe Ah should shave."

Lydecker was suddenly self-conscious and stepped back from the mirror. He looked around the room at the rest of the men to see if they were paying attention. Fortunately, they were all busy getting dressed or combing their hair. He glanced at the sergeant, but Saunders seemed likewise occupied, ignoring both Lydecker and Kirby.

"Aw, don't look to the Sarge," Kirby laughed. "He's so blonde, he could go without shavin' for days an' nobody would even see his stubble, unless his face was dirty."

That drew a laugh from the rest of the men and a smile from Saunders, although he didn't look up.

"Like we told ya before, if ya wanna know if it's time to start shavin', ya gotta ask Caje. He can shave now an' in three hours he'd need to do it again. Caje…c'mon over here an' give ol' Lydecker your expert opinion."

The scout once again held Joey's chin and turned his head to the left and then to the right, examining the fuzz on the young man's face. "Not yet, Joey, but soon," was the verdict. "Don't be in a hurry, because once you start, you'll be doing it for de rest of your life," the Cajun added.

The town was alive with activity as soldiers wandered the streets looking for anything that might relieve their boredom. For these front-line troops, existence was usually defined by the monotonous routine of digging fox holes and endless reconnaissance patrols punctuated by brief periods of absolute terror. At least this village gave some promise of a little diversion, if only for the fights that might break out between the men from the three platoons billeted in or bivouacked around the town.

First Squad, Second Platoon was headed for a bar Kirby had already reconnoitered. The men clomped down the stairs into the basement establishment.

Halfway down the steps, just as he was far enough along that he could see around the room below, Lydecker stopped and stared. There, ahead of him, shoved up against the back wall, was a piano. Joey stood and looked at it until the men behind him began to push and grumble about the hold-up. He continued down the stairs and walked, as if in a trance, over to the instrument. He lovingly ran his fingers across the keys.

The rest of the men occupied two tables at the side of the room, between the piano and the bar. They leaned their weapons against the wall where they would be able to quickly grab them, if the need arose, and stowed their helmets beneath their chairs.

"Hey, Caje, why don't ya order for us?"

"Okay, Kirby." The Cajun went up to the bar. Good evening, sir. My friends and I would like four bottles of your finest wine and some bread and cheese. Caje looked over at Joey. Is it alright if the soldier plays the piano?

Yes, but it's probably out of tune.

That's alright. Thank you.

Caje walked over to where Lydecker was standing. "Joey, can you play de piano?"

"Yeah," he said with a small smile.

"Well, de bartender says it's okay for you to play, if you want to."

"Thanks, Caje."

Lydecker sat on the stool and played a chromatic scale up and down the keys. It was obvious some of the notes were out of tune and one key produced no sound at all, but none of that seemed to bother the young soldier. He paused for a moment and then started to play the slow and mournfully beautiful Air from Suite No. 3 in D major by J.S. Bach (b).

Kirby let out a groan.

"Shut up, Kirby." The sergeant didn't tell anyone that he knew the piece from the times he had sat in the parlor with his mother, listening to the radio on Sunday afternoons.

When the last note had faded away, Kirby said, "Don't ya know nothin' more lively?"

Once again, Saunders said, "Shut up, Kirby."

Lydecker swiveled around. "It's okay, Sergeant. Here's one just for Kirby."

The men were probably expecting something along the lines of 'The Beer Barrel Polka' but instead Lydecker played another slow piece. This time it was a beautiful but melancholy Irish ballad where each of the notes seemed to hang in the air. He played it quietly. The men in the bar, one by one, stopped talking and strained to hear the mournful song which seemed to 'speak' of things that never were or that would never be again.

At times, Kirby thought he recognized the tune, but he knew he had never heard anything played like that. He looked down at his hands and thought of the Ireland he knew only from his grandmother's stories.

From then on, nobody questioned the selection of music. The men recognized most of the tunes, although they might not have realized it was all classical music. Lydecker pounded out the Polonaise in A-flat major by Chopin (c) and some energetic Slavonic dances by Dvořák. The soldiers clapped, stomped their booted feet and whirred the bar maids around. These were interspersed with slower pieces by the great German composers. For the bartender and bar maids, he played a rousing version of 'La Marseillaise' (d). The bar maids stood on chairs and the bartender climbed up on the bar. They, along with Caje, belted out the words while the rest of the soldiers cheered them on.

Joey had always played with technical perfection, but he could never please his grandfather. More passion! he always demanded. You have to FEEL the music, not just play the notes, the old man had constantly admonished him. But tonight, as his fingers danced across the keyboard almost with a will of their own, Joey put life into each note.

Soldiers entered the bar, but nobody left. Anyone who started to make a derogatory comment when he first arrived was immediately hushed and soon fell under the music's spell.

Outside, Cpt. Jampel, Lt. Hanley, and Lt. Hobbs from First Platoon wandered the streets, prepared to break up fights. Instead, they wondered where all the soldiers had gone. Eventually, they ended up standing in the doorway with the rest of the overflow crowd, listening as the notes floated up the stairs and into the street.

The evening passed quickly. After what seemed to the soldiers only a brief period of time, the bartender wormed his way through the crowd to Caje. I am sorry, sir, but I must close in a few minutes. I do not want to get into trouble with your army.

Kirby asked Caje what the bartender wanted and when the Cajun told him, the BAR man got up and worked his way over to Lydecker's side.

"Joey, the bartender's gonna close the joint up in a few minutes." Kirby looked a little embarrassed. "Would ya play that Irish song again for me?"

"Sure, Kirby."

Once again the room was filled with the soft, slow, melancholy Irish ballad. The soldiers of King Company drifted in their minds to that place, both real and mythical, called home. Some, including Kirby, even allowed the tears to appear, if only for a moment. When the last note finally faded away, there was nothing but silence.

Then, slowly, came the sound of scrapping chairs on the floor as men stood to leave, followed by the clomping of their boots on the stairs, but little talking. The officers watched in amazement as the soldiers walked away, still under the spell of the music.

First Squad was the last to leave. Joey was surrounded by his squad mates. Just outside the door, Cpt. Jampel waited with his two lieutenants. All of the men came to attention as the captain stepped forward.

"At ease, men. That was quite some playing. Who's the pianist?"

When Lydecker was identified, the captain continued, "Private, if you'd like, I can put through a request to get you transferred to Special Services."

The squad stood by silently. Getting that transfer would be Joey's ticket to safety behind the front lines.

With hardly a moment of thought, he responded, "Ah'm glad you enjoyed it, Sir, and thanks for the offer, but Ah'm where Ah belong."

"Well, if you change your mind, just let Lt. Hanley know."

"Yes, Sir. Goodnight, Sir."

Lydecker and the rest of First Squad were dismissed. They continued walking back toward the shop where they were staying.

"Maybe you should take him up on that offer," Littlejohn said.

"Nah, Ah'd probably end up playing in some officers' club and hating every minute of it. And besides," Joey laughed, "Ah don't know any of the new, popular songs."

"Well, if ya change your mind, I could go along an' turn the pages for ya," Kirby offered.

Littlejohn rolled his eyes. "Kirby, you're such a goldbrick."

"Aw, shut up, ya big moose."

The other men chuckled at the exchange, but then were silent the rest of the way back to the shop, each lost in his own thoughts and the memory of the music.

As the officers walked away, Lt. Hobbs quietly suggested, "We should have him play in no man's land. It just might entice the Krauts to turn around and go home."

By 0700 the squad was ready to begin a routine reconnaissance patrol. Their mission was to make a big loop, looking for any sign the Krauts might be regrouping. They would travel first along a river and later the road that would take the company to the next village in their push across the countryside.

Even at that early hour, the soldiers all knew it was going to be a scorcher.

"Alright, saddle up. Caje, take the point…Kirby, the rear…Hanson, fall in behind Littlejohn." Saunders gestured as he said, "Move out."

Lydecker fell in behind the sergeant and off to his left. He was comfortable there and was glad the NCO hadn't told Hanson to take that position.

Billy moved up to walk beside Joey and started happily chattering about the weather and any other topic that happened to cross his mind. Finally, he asked, "Is that what you meant when you told me you had to practice?"

"What?"

"Remember, when you first joined the squad, you said you spent all your time in the woods except when you had to go to school or to practice."

"Oh, you remember that," Joey chuckled. "Yeah, that's what Ah meant. My grandfather was a pretty famous pianist in Germany and he concertized…"

"Concrete what?"

"It means he played concerts, Billy, right, Joey." Littlejohn, walking behind the two, had been listening to their conversation.

Joey turned around to look at the big soldier. "Yeah, Littlejohn, that's right. He played all over Europe. But, when he came to American, he only taught…and Ah was one of his students."

"Did you like learning to play?" Nelson asked.

Lydecker thought for a moment before answering. "Ah didn't really like practicing. Ah wanted to be outside. But, when you're a kid, you do what's expected of you. Last night…it made me realize how much Ah've missed playing." Joey paused again, then added, "Ah guess that's like a lot a things. You don't appreciate them until you don't have them anymore."

"Are you gonna concretize when you get home?"

Joey laughed. "Ah hadn't really thought about it. Maybe, but I'd need a lot more instruction. Anyway, home seems a long ways off right now."

"Yeah…" Billy said quietly. He drifted back into single file, thinking about home and what Joey had just said about not appreciated something until it was gone.

At 1000 Saunders called a break. The men removed their field jackets, folding them and draping them over the back of their web belts. Doc reminded everyone to take a drink, but not too much water since they wouldn't be able to refill their canteens until the river. They opened their K-rations, swapped a few cans and then quickly had something to eat. The sergeant and the scout shared a cigarette while studying the map, going over once again the next part of the route they would travel. When the cigarette was finished, Saunders signaled the squad to move out.

About a half hour later, Caje suddenly raised his hand and dropped to one knee. The squad moved behind cover as Saunders crouched low and ran forward to kneel beside the scout.

"You hear dat?" asked the Cajun.

"Yeah, it sounds like rifle fire, off to the right."

"But, no M-1s returning fire."

Back where the squad waited, a similar conversation was taking place.

"Wha..Wha..What's going on?" asked Hanson, his whole body seeming to tremble.

Doc scooted over and put a reassuring hand on the replacement's shoulder. "The Sarge will let us know what's happening in a minute."

"That's Kraut rifle fire and a couple of Schmeissers, but I don't hear any return American fire," Littlejohn said.

Billy looked over at his pal. "What do you think is happening?"

"I don't know, Billy."

Kirby, watching the back trail, chuckled, "Maybe them Krauts are shootin' at each other. That would make our job a whole lot easier."

The sergeant had returned. "Yeah, Kirby, it would, but I don't think so. We'll check it out, so take it nice an' easy until we know what's going on." He looked at Hanson when he reminded them, "Don't bunch up."

The squad spread out as the NCO led them toward the sound of the shooting. Caje cautiously moved forward. Abruptly, he dropped to his belly and crawled behind cover. The sergeant signaled the rest of the men to get down as he joined the scout.

"Dere are two Frenchmen shooting, see," the Cajun said as he pointed. "Anoder is off to de side, wounded."

"They must be part of the Resistance." Saunders knew that the French Maquis often fought with 'liberated' German weapons. "Let them know we're here so they don't turn an' start firing at us."

Caje yelled, DON'T SHOOT. WE'RE AMERICANS. WE'RE HERE TO HELP YOU.

The two Frenchmen twisted around. Their body language and faces displayed obvious signs of relief at the sight of the Americans. Saunders signaled the squad to come forward as he sized up the situation.

Once he saw the wounded man, Doc started get up to go to him, but the sergeant grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"Later, Doc, after the shooting stops."

"But…"

"Later…."

In front of them were the remains of a farm. The barn had been reduced to a smoldering pile of rubble, and the small house was missing most of its roof. The Germans had taken refuge behind a stone wall that delineated what had been the front yard of the home. From the firing, it appeared to be only five or six men, a patrol, and they were concentrated in the left corner of the stone wall.

"Caje an' Nelson, circle around to the right. See if you can get close enough to toss in a grenade. Kirby, Littlejohn an' Hanson…stay here with the Frenchmen an' give us cover. Lydecker, you're on me. We'll circle to the left an' try to draw their fire."

The men moved out as ordered. Momentarily, the deep bark of the BAR could be heard, along with rifle fire from Littlejohn and Hanson as they opened up. Doc remained behind his squad mates, keeping an eye on the wounded Frenchman and those members of First Squad he could see.

Caje and Nelson were soon out of sight as they circled to the right. They hadn't been spotted by the Germans and, with the scout in the lead, they planned on keeping it that way.

The sergeant and Lydecker moved quickly around the perimeter of the field to the left. Once they found good cover, they also began firing. The rapid bursts from Saunders' Tommy gun, combined with the well-aimed shots from Lydecker's rifle caused the Germans to turn part of their attention to their right, creating the opportunity for Caje and Billy to race across the yard, in front of what had been the barn, and to plaster themselves against the side of the house.

The two men crept along the building, ducking down to pass beneath the one window that broke up the solid wall. Billy carefully rose enough to look inside. His eyes sweep around the room. He dropped back down and shook his head, letting the Cajun know he hadn't seen any Krauts.

The scout continued to move along the wall until he came to the corner. He cautiously peeked around it and then signaled Billy to get down as he pulled the pin on a grenade. In a movement that would have been graceful in other circumstances, he pivoted around the corner, located his target, and tossed the grenade before swinging back around to the side of the building and throwing himself to the ground. The ensuing explosion brought all fire from the Germans to an end.

Saunders shouted, "HOLD YOUR FIRE!" as he and Lydecker warily came out from behind their cover and began to make their way toward the house.

Caje and Nelson appeared at the corner of the building, rifles at the ready. It was obvious the skirmish was over, so they began to check for survivors. Doc rushed over to the wounded Frenchman. He was quickly joined by the other two members of the Maquis. Kirby and Hanson headed for the house while Littlejohn stayed behind to provide security for the medic and the rest of the squad.

As soon as his men had gathered, the sergeant gave them orders. "Caje, see if Doc needs any help with the Frenchmen. Nelson, get Littlejohn an' check the perimeter of the field. When you're done, take security. Kirby, you an' Hanson check out this house. Lydecker, see if there's anything of interest on these bodies."

The men dispersed while Saunders surveyed the scene.

"What do you think, Sergeant?" Joey asked.

"It's not an OP. They only had Schmeissers, no dug-in heavy machine gun. It looks like a squad on a routine patrol who stopped for a break. See the open cans of food. Those Resistance fighters probably just stumbled on them…"

"And we stumbled on the Frenchmen."

"Yeah, that's about it. Get busy going through their pockets."

"Yes, Sergeant."

When the NCO assigned Kirby and Hanson to check the house, he didn't expect they would find anything. No firing had come from inside the building and he knew if Caje had suspected something, he would have thrown in a grenade. He just thought it was an opportunity for the obviously nervous replacement to get some experience in clearing a building, a skill that would come in handy in the future.

The BAR man and Hanson walked over to the closed door. The replacement was still shaking, although not as badly as before the skirmish.

"Okay, Hanson…I'm gonna kick in the door an' enter crouched down low an' sweep from the left to the right. You come in behind me…keep low, but so ya can shoot over me if ya have to. You sweep from right to left. Ya got it?"

"I fo..fo..follow you an' sh..sh..shoot over you from right to left."

"Yeah, but ya don't shoot unless there's somethin' to shoot at…like Krauts, not civilians."

Kirby watched the soldier run through the instructions in his head. When the new man appeared ready, he moved to the door, raised his foot and kicked it open. He immediately dropped down and quickly swept the room, moving his eyes and the BAR as one. He could feel Hanson standing above him, also looking the room over, although more slowly. Just as Hanson was about to pull the trigger, Kirby stood, pushing the replacement's rifle up.

"Hold your fire."

"But, it's a Kraut."

"Yeah, but this one ain't gonna fight nobody."

Sitting in the furthest corner, on the same side of the room as the window, with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees and his face burrowed into his thighs, trying to make himself as small as possible, was a German soldier. His rifle was on the floor under the window.

"Give me your rifle." The BAR man said. "I'll keep 'im covered whilst ya stand 'im up an' search 'im for weapons. Take off his cartridge belt an' toss it over there by his rifle. When you're through searchin' 'im, take his belt an' use it to tie his hands together."

"S..s..search him an' tie his hands. In fr..fr..front or behind?"

Kirby thought for a moment before answering, "In front." He figured he could always retie the prisoner if Saunders said to, but it would be easier for the Kraut to walk if his hands were in front and, therefore, easier for whoever was guarding him.

Hanson walked over to the German soldier and nudged his foot. As he gestured, he loudly said, "GET UP!"

The prisoner lifted his head, looking up at Hanson, and then stood. Kirby's gaze ran up and down their captive. He shook his head. The soldier was probably no more than fifteen, just a kid, short and skinny, who hadn't even started to fill out. And, he was trembling like a leaf.

"C'mon, Hanson. Search 'im for weapons an' get his hands tied."

"But, Kirby, he's just a…"

"He's just a Kraut. Do your job!"

Once Hanson had finished, he walked back to Kirby, leaving the boy standing with his head bowed and his entire body still shaking. Kirby handed the replacement his rifle.

"Watch him!" the BAR man said. He walked over to the door and stuck his head out to call to Saunders. "Sarge, ya better come an' take a look. Ya probably need Lydecker, too."

The NCO looked up when he heard Kirby summons him. He turned to the young soldier. "You find anything?"

Joey handed the NCO the map he had taken off the German sergeant's body. Saunders looked at it, but it didn't appear to contain any more information than the map he was carrying, so he stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

"Let's see what Kirby wants."

The two soldiers walked over to where the BAR man was leaning against the door jamb with a silly smirk on his face. He led them inside.

"What we got here, Sarge, is a dangerous Kraut prisoner who was hidin' in the corner an' who, as ya can see, wet himself."

Saunders looked at the frightened boy. "Does he speak English?"

"Don't know. He ain't said nothin' yet."

The NCO turned to the replacement. "Hanson, go an' see if Caje needs any help. If not, take security with Littlejohn an' Nelson."

"Okay, Sarge."

As he left, Saunders looked at Kirby and silently asked the question.

"He done okay, Sarge. A little slow, but he didn't shoot me in the back."

Saunders nodded. He turned to Lydecker. "Talk to him an' see what you can find out."

"Can Ah offer him a drink?"

Although prisoners usually didn't get anything until S-2 finished with their interrogation, the sergeant figured they still had a long, hot day in front of them. "Yeah, go ahead."

Lydecker walked over to the prisoner. He pulled his canteen off his web belt, unscrewed the cap and offered it to the boy.

Would you like some water?

No, thank you.

Joey saw the boy lick his lips and thought he was probably thirsty, but too scared to drink. So, he took a swallow himself before offering the canteen again. The boy hesitated a moment, then grabbed it and took several gulps.

Thank you, he said as he handed the canteen back to Lydecker.

My name is Joseph. What's your name?

Wilhelm.

How old are you, Wilhelm?

The German looked down at his feet. Fourteen.

Was this your first experience in combat?

Lydecker thought the boy was going to cry, but instead he bit his lip and remained silent for a minute before speaking. I just got here this morning…The sergeant said to cover the window…I was so scared…I didn't know what to do.

Joey remembered what his drill sergeant had told him, that every soldier is afraid. He hadn't thought about the Germans being scared as well.

Yeah, I was, too, my first time…Do you speak English?

No.

Lydecker turned to his sergeant. "Ah don't think he's gonna be able to tell you very much, Sergeant." He told Saunders what he had learned.

"See if you can find out where the Kraut base camp is."

Lydecker turned back to the boy and asked the question, but Wilhelm just shook his head. Joey didn't know if that meant he didn't know or that he wasn't going to tell. He decided not to push for any more information just then. He remembered what the sergeant had said about the Krauts stopping to rest and eat.

Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?

No, thank you.

"Sergeant, that's all Ah can get for now. Ah'll try again later."

"Alright. Let's see how Doc's doing."

Kirby led the way out of the house. As Lydecker and the prisoner passed the dead Krauts, the boy stopped and gaped at the bodies of his comrades. They had been shot or torn apart by the shrapnel from the grenade and were tossed by the concussive wave of its explosion into grotesque positions. These were the men who had joked with him just hours ago, teasing him about his voice cracking when he spoke. Now, they were all dead. Joey took his arm and gently led him away from the morbid sight. He couldn't help but think back to his own first patrol when Willis was killed. It seemed so long ago, a lifetime ago.

When they arrived at the edge of the field, Doc was just tying off the final bandage on the wounded Frenchman. The sergeant pulled out his map and asked Caje to speak to one of them and find out where they had come from and if they had seen any Germans before they ran into this patrol.

Caje talked to the leader and learned that they were from a Maquis camp further to the north. They had walked along the river for almost three kilometers and hadn't seen any Boche. They were headed for a road they believed the Boche were using. They hadn't seen this patrol until the shooting started.

Saunders and the scout studied the map. The road the Frenchman had spoken of was the same one they were supposed to check.

"Doc, is that Frenchman ready to travel?"

"Yeah, Sarge. They told us they have a doctor in their group, so he should be okay."

"Caje, ask if they're gonna be able to make it back with a wounded man."

They answered in the affirmative, so the medic and the Cajun helped the injured man to stand. Doc gave the leader two packets of sulfa, extra bandages and two ampoules of morphine to give to their doctor. After thanking the Americans once again for their assistance, the three members of the Resistance headed back to their camp.

Saunders removed his helmet and wiped the perspiration off his brow with his shirt sleeve, then ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. After watching the three Frenchmen disappear into the underbrush, he studied the map again. Since the French fighters had just done a reconnaissance of the river, he decided not to head for it.

"Alright, saddle up. We'll pick up Nelson, Littlejohn, an' Hanson an' check out the road. Caje, take the point." The sergeant put his helmet back on as the squad moved out.

Lydecker walked beside Wilhelm, talking to him in a low voice. My grandparents were from Stuttgart. Where are you from?

I was a student in Leipzig.

What did you study, the regular high school curriculum?

No, the violin and voice.

Joey looked at the German soldier with a bit of envy. You were a student at the Mendelssohn Conservatory!

We don't call it that. Mendelssohn was a Jew.

I don't know his religion, only his music. He was a great composer.

Wilhelm didn't answer so Lydecker decided not to pursue that topic any further.

If you were a music student, why did you become a soldier?

The boy walked in silence, watching his feet. At last, he responded. The officer from my Hitler Youth group came to the school. All of us who were fourteen or fifteen had to report to the auditorium. We left school that day to begin our training. It is our duty to fight for the Fatherland.

Lydecker looked at the young German and shook his head. You don't belong here. You're a musician, not a soldier.

Wilhelm didn't respond. 'No, now I am a soldier,' he thought.

As the squad approached the road, the sergeant signaled the men to seek cover. He crouched and moved forward to join Caje. They watched the road for a long time, but there was no traffic of any sort on it. Finally, they returned to the squad. The scout and the NCO sat and studied the map.

Lydecker asked Littlejohn to watch Wilhelm before he moved over to kneel beside them. "Sergeant, Ah don't know if it means anything, but the prisoner kept straining to look down the road to the left the whole time y'all were watching it."

Saunders considered this piece of information and then made up his mind. He pulled out his pencil and circled an area on the map.

"Caje, you're on me. Kirby, you're in charge." He handed the BAR man the map. "Take the squad an' move back into better cover. Wait two hours. If we're not back, head for home an' give the map to Lt. Hanley. Tell him the area I circled is my best guess as to where the Krauts might be regrouping. If you hear shooting, high tail it for home right away. You got it?"

"But, Sarge…"

"No buts. That's an order. Now move out."

"Alright, alright…ya heard the Sarge, move out."

The two men watched the squad fall back and disappear into the undergrowth. Then they started moving through the light tree cover that ran parallel to the road.

Within a half mile, they saw a turn-off. The side road ran into a dense wooded area. A bored sentry was pacing back and forth across the smaller road. They retraced their steps until they were out of sight of the sentry before quickly crossing the main road and melting into the woods, heading in the general direction of the turn-off. They continued moving stealthily through the trees for another half mile or so until they both stopped and dropped behind the nearest cover.

"Do you hear that?" asked the sergeant.

"It sounds like half-tracks…"

"Let's get closer."

They crawled forward, watching for trip wires and sentries. They heard the guttural voices before they saw anyone and froze. Caje raised two fingers and pointed to the right. Saunders nodded. They moved cautiously to the left and slowly continued moving forward.

The sound of the vehicles had stopped, but it was replaced by the shouts of men and the noise of supplies being unloaded. Saunders wanted to get a closer look, but decided it wasn't worth the risk. They had the information S-2 was looking for, so now their job was to get back with it. He signaled the Cajun, and they began retracing their steps to rejoin the waiting squad.

The men were well hidden as Kirby fidgeted.

"How long has it been?" he asked as he shifted the heavy BAR yet again.

Littlejohn sighed. "Five minutes longer than the last time you asked. Why don't you look at your own watch?"

"'Cause I lost it in a poker game, ya big ox."

"Here, take mine." Littlejohn unbuckled his watch and handed it to Kirby. "Just be sure to give it back to me when we get home."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What time was it when they left?"

"1440."

"What time's that?"

Billy rolled his eyes while Doc just shook his head.

"That's 2:40, Kirby. When are you gonna learn to tell time?" asked the big man.

"Look, I know what's important an' that screwy way of tellin' time ain't," he said as he got up from his seated position and, crouching, moved to a new location. He plopped down and again shifted the BAR. After a few minutes, he said, "C'mon, let's move to another spot."

"Kirby, we just got here," an exasperated Billy said. "We already moved twice. You're gonna get us lost if we keep moving around."

"The cover ain't so good here,"

The big man sighed again. "Doc, couldn't you maybe give him a shot of morphine and knock him out?"

"I can't do that, Littlejohn," the medic responded, taken aback at the request. "He's not wounded."

"Yeah, but he's killin' us."

The hushed squabbling between the squad mates continued.

Lydecker was focused on the territory in front of him, sweeping his gaze to the left and the right. He was watching and waiting for either the return of the sergeant and the scout, or the unwelcomed appearance of Wilhelm's countrymen.

The young Kraut lay curled up in a ball with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep. But, he was working to free his hands.

Hanson sat beside Doc, listening to Kirby, Nelson and Littlejohn. He didn't understand how they could argue about trivial things while they were surrounded by the enemy, awaiting certain death. Each time he thought about it, he began to shake again. He just wanted Sanders and Caje to return so they could get out of there.

"They're back," Lydecker said as he stood and stepped out from behind the cover that concealed the squad.

The rest of the men appeared one by one, stretching and shaking their arms and legs. The sergeant and the Cajun leaned against trees for a moment to catch their breath and release the pent-up tension from their reconnaissance.

"Everything go alright, Sarge?" asked Billy.

"Yeah, Nelson, we found just what we were looking for. Everything okay here?"

"Except for Kirby driving us all crazy," Doc said with a grin. "But, I guess you expected that."

Saunders smiled. When he had left Kirby in charge, he had known that if things were quiet, the BAR man's nervous energy would be a major annoyance to the rest of the men. But, he also knew that if there was trouble, Kirby was the best bet to get the squad out alive.

"Don't believe 'em, Sarge," the BAR man said. "I had everythin' under control the entire time ya was gone."

Caje laughed. "Sure, mon ami. So no-one would mind if de Sarge and I took anoder look around."

"Don't even think about it, Caje. It would be either him or us that made it out alive," said the big man solemnly.

"Littlejohn's right, Sarge. We can only take so much Kirby, and we've reached our limit," added Billy.

Saunders looked at the BAR man and shook his head. "Alright, saddle up. Let's head for home."

"Here, Sarge," Kirby said as he handed the map back to his sergeant. "Ya can carry this now."

It had been well over two hours since they started back. Littlejohn moved forward to walk beside the NCO. "Sarge, when are we gonna stop and eat? I'm getting awful hungry."

"Give it another thirty minutes, Littlejohn. I wanna put a little more distance between us an' that Kraut camp."

The big man sighed. "Okay, Sarge." He would rather have stopped at that point, but he wasn't one to question the sergeant.

Wilhelm remained quiet as the squad headed toward the American lines. Lydecker decided to try to engage him again, so he took out his harmonica and started to quietly play 'Sah ein Knab ein Röslein stehn' (e). He got a smile from the young German and the boy soon joined in, his voice intertwining effortlessly with the harmonica as they traded the melody and the harmony back and forth. When they finished, Billy came up to walk beside them.

"What song was that?"

"It's a German folk song."

"How did you know he knew it?"

Lydecker laughed. "Every German knows that song. It would be like if I started singing 'Yankee Doodle' or 'I've Been Workin' on the Railroad.' Y'all would join in, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, I see what you mean. He's got a nice voice, even if I didn't understand what he was singing."

Wilhelm, Billy say's you have a nice voice.

The German soldier blushed.

A half hour later, Saunders moved forward. "Find someplace to stop an' eat."

"Right," Caje replied.

Once the scout had found a good spot, he and Saunders settled down to watch the back trail and go over the remaining route home while Billy kept an eye on what lay ahead. The other men spread out, arranging themselves in a lop-sided circle, glad for the chance to rest. Joey and Wilhelm sat together with Hanson and Doc close enough to talk to, but not right on top of them. Littlejohn sat alone on the other side of the circle more or less across from Lydecker. He knew Billy would be joining him as soon as the Sarge rotated the watch. Kirby was also sitting alone, opposite Doc. He expected the Cajun to join him in a few minutes.

The medic watched Hanson. The replacement was tired. He was sitting on a log holding his rifle loosely by the barrel with the butt on the ground and his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes were closed. Doc decided he'd better keep an eye on him so he didn't fall asleep and tumble off the log. If he did, the medic knew Kirby would never let him live it down.

Are you hungry? Lydecker asked the prisoner.

Yes, please.

Joey had eaten some of his rations at 1000 and didn't have enough left for both himself and Wilhelm. But, he thought Littlejohn had probably carried two or even three day's worth of food, so he decided to go and ask the good-hearted big man for a tin or two. He stood and walked across the circle.

"Ich bin ein Soldat," Wilhelm whispered to himself as he pulled his hands free from the belt.

"Ich bin ein Soldat," he said aloud.

Doc looked over at him. Since Lydecker was speaking with Littlejohn, the medic couldn't figure out who the boy was talking to. Suddenly, Doc watched as the scene played out in a slow motion dance of death before he could do anything.

"ICH BIN EIN SOLDAT!" Wilhelm shouted as he jumped up…

He grabbed Hanson's rifle…

Joey wheeled around…

Kirby shouted, "NO!"…

The retort of the rifle and the bark of the BAR sounded almost simultaneously…

Lydecker looked surprised as his hands moved to clutch his abdomen…

The Sarge, Caje and Billy came running…

Wilhelm and Joey both fell to the ground.

Doc ran to Lydecker and knelt over him. He moved the young soldier's bloody hands and ripped open his shirt to examine the wound. Saunders dropped to his knees across from Doc. He looked at the medic. Doc looked up, his eyes glistening with tears as he slowly shook his head.

"Sergeant…did Ah do okay?" Joey gasped.

Saunders looked into the young soldier's earnest eyes. "Yeah, Lydecker, you did just fine."

Joey smiled. "Good…wouldn't want…1st Sgt. Walters…to come after me." He coughed and a small trickle of blood ran out the corner of his mouth.

The squad gathered around. Tears were running freely down Billy's cheeks. The rest of the men struggled to hold back theirs back, or wiped their eyes on their sleeves. Hanson stood on the outside of the small circle, shaking his head in disbelief as he took in the scene.

Joey felt himself sinking into the cool, refreshing blackness. He looked around at the men. "Ah always wanted…brothers," he whispered.

The blackness was closing in on him. He smiled again. "Uncle…Ah can hear…the birds."

As the blackness swallowed him, he suddenly saw the Light and began to swim toward it.

"He's gone," Doc said softly as he reached up to close Lydecker's eyes.

Billy stood and turned away, the tears still running down his cheeks. Littlejohn put his arm around his young friend's shoulder to try to comfort him, all the while fighting back his own tears.

Kirby had been shaking his head and whispering, "No…no…no…" Now he stood and raged, "NO!...YOU DIRTY ROTTEN KRAUT!" (f), as he stomped toward where Wilhelm lay. But, there was nothing more he could do to the boy. The burst from the BAR had cut his slender body almost in half.

Caje continued kneeling by the fallen soldier, repeating, "Mon Dieu…mon Dieu…mon Dieu." 'Joey,' he thought, 'you made me break my rule.'

Saunders reached up and gave Lydecker's hair a final tussle. As he took one of the dog tags from the chain around the soldier's neck, his hand brushed against Joey's shirt pocket. The NCO pulled out the harmonica. He held it for a moment and then placed it in the palm of Joey's bloody hand, wrapping the young soldier's fingers tightly around it. He stood and walked several steps away to take a couple of deep breaths. After a minute, he turned around to face the squad.

"Alright, saddle up."

The men looked at him.

"Sarge..." Littlejohn began to speak.

"Littlejohn…any Krauts in the area are sure to have heard the shots. We gotta get moving."

They knew their sergeant was right, so they slowly picked up their gear. Kirby attached the bayonet to Lydecker's rifle and pushed the blade into the ground. Doc placed Joey's helmet over the rifle butt.

"I should have told him to shave," Caje said as he walked away.

When they reached the village, the squad members drifted away. Saunders headed over to the CP. He handed the lieutenant the German sergeant's map as he summarized the patrol, the run-in with the Krauts, the taking of the prisoner, the location of the base camp, and the senseless death of two young men. He laid Lydecker's dog tag on Hanley's make-shift desk. The platoon leader called in the location of the Kraut camp and an artillery barrage was set for later that night as a result of the information the squad had gathered.

There was nothing the lieutenant could say to his friend. They both had seen too much to try to give any meaning to Lydecker's death, and they both knew the rule. Young men die in war, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. They sat smoking in silence for a while until the sergeant got up and left, returning to the squad's billet.

In the meantime, Cpl. Brockmeyer had been over to the shop to remove Lydecker's duffle bag. Every time a soldier was killed in the Second Platoon, he went through their personal belongings to make sure there was nothing upsetting or embarrassing before the items were sent back to the family.

As it got dark, the rest of the men wandered back and settled down for the evening. There was no talk about what had happened that day.

Brockmeyer entered the billet. "I went through Lydecker's possessions…

"Joey didn't have any family," Billy said softly, keeping his head bowed.

"Yeah, I saw that on his paperwork. There's a couple of things…an ASE book…,"

Saunders looked at the title. It was the one he had recently given Lydecker to read. "I'll take that," he replied.

"Doc…" Brockmeyer handed him an envelope.

The medic looked at it. 'DOC' was neatly printed in block letters. He took a deep breath before opening it. Inside was a copy of Joey's G.I. life insurance policy made out to him with 'for medical school' printed at the top.

The corporal explained, "He was in an' filled out the paperwork after all that trouble with Jankowski. He named you as next of kin an' said somethin' about it bein' to help you with your purpose in life. Anyway, it's all taken care of."

"Ah don't know what to say."

"He made a good choice, Doc," Saunders said quietly.

It had been a long day. The squad settled down to get some sleep. They all knew that tomorrow would bring another patrol. The war would go on.

(a) How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn, ASE book H-239

(b) Bach BWV 1068

(c) Chopin Op. 53

(d) In 1792, Claude-Joseph Rouget de L'Isle wrote the words and music for a work he called "War Song of the Army of the Rhine." It became a rallying cry for the French Revolution and was sung at patriotic gatherings, including one in the city of Marseille. There it was adopted as the official marching song of the National Guard of Marseille. On July 30, 1792, the Guard marched through Paris singing 'their' song and it became known as "La Marseillaise." It was adopted as the French national anthem in 1795. However, in 1830 Hector Berlioz composed new music which quickly became the standard accompaniment to the rousing lyrics.

(e) 'Sah ein Knab ein Röslein stehn' is based on the poem 'Heideröslein,' written by Goethe in 1799. It tells the story of a young man whose love is rejected. The rose represents the woman. The poem was set to music by numerous composers, including Franz Schubert. As a folk song, Heinrich Werner's version, written in 1829, became the most popular.

(f) Line from 'The Wounded Don't Cry,' season 2 of "Combat!"


	2. Epilogue

6

 **Chapter 2: Epilogue**

 _Five years after that fateful patrol…_

There was a knock at the front door and Kathy Saunders rushed from the kitchen to open it. She knew who it was. Beth Kirby had called earlier in the week to see if she and Chip were going to be home on Friday night, and, if so, could she and Bill come for a visit.

When they were first married, Kathy had resented the squad, that group of men Chip would share things with that he wouldn't share with her. The men he would take calls from at any time, day or night; the men he would talk to on the phone for hours, even though, it seemed to her, nothing was being said much of the time.

Once, Paul had even turned up, out of the blue, on their doorstop and stayed for three weeks. He barely said a word to her. He and Chip went for long walks. Kathy jokingly said they were 'going on patrol.' Then, one morning, he had come to the breakfast table with a smile on his face, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He thanked her for her hospitality and left that day. She still didn't know the reason for his sudden appearance, or what had changed.

But, over time, as she became friends with the other wives, she learned that the men were all alike and that she would have to share her husband, just like the rest of the wives had to share theirs, because the bonds between them were unbreakable. Chip could talk to them about things he wouldn't even talk to his own brothers about, even though they were also veterans of the war.

So now, when one of them called and proposed a visit, she was happy to welcome them into their home.

"Beth, how wonderful to see you and Bill!"

Bill gave her a small peck on the cheek. "Where's the Sarge?"

That was another thing she had had to get used to. Even though the war had been over for four years, they still called each other by their last names. To her and the other wives he was 'Chip,' but to the squad he was still 'the Sarge' or 'Saunders.'

"Chip's having a smoke out on the back porch." As he headed for the kitchen door, she added, "…and don't you two go filling up on beer. I've got a nice supper cooking."

"No, Ma'am," he responded, giving her his best 'sweet little boy' smile.

She turned back to Beth, who had a big grin on her face. "What?...Oh my gosh, YOU'RE PREGNANT!"

"YES!" Beth was almost jumping up and down. "I'm so happy…and excited…and scared!"

"Let's go sit in the kitchen so we can talk while I'm finishing up…"

Kirby opened the kitchen door and stepped out onto the back porch. The parlor windows were open, and the Sarge was listening to the fourth movement from Dvořák's String Quartet in F major (a) playing on a phonograph record.

"Ya like that kinda music, Sarge?" he asked with a smirky grin.

Saunders couldn't admit that he did like classical music, so when anyone commented on it, he always passed it off as the choice of his wife, the music teacher. "Kathy likes it," he said as he passed Kirby a can of beer.

In the kitchen, Kathy gave Beth a small smile, shook her head and rolled her eyes. 'Men,' she thought. She and Chip had met at a concert.

As Kirby sat down on the step, Saunders shook out a cigarette from his open pack for the ex-BAR man and flicked open his lighter. The men sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, smoking and sipping their beers.

Eventually, the sergeant solemnly said, "So, you're gonna be a father."

Kirby looked at him like he had psychic powers. In the kitchen, the women stopped talking and ease-dropped on their husbands' conversation.

"I heard Beth tell Kathy," Saunders said with a sly grin.

"Ya know how I used to feel kinda sick like when we was gonna go out on patrol? Well, that's just how I feel now. I don't know if I'm ready for this."

"You'll be great," Saunders said, and then added with a laugh, "…just teach the kid to be like Beth an' not like you."

Kirby chuckled. "Is that what you do?"

The Sarge was quiet for a bit before answering. "I looked too long into the abyss. I don't want that rubbing off on my boys."

Neither man spoke. They didn't have to. Both had seen too much, been forced to do too much in order to survive.

Kirby thought back to a long-ago conversation. "Now who's bein' phillysophical?"

Saunders looked perplexed. Then he also remembered when Kirby had asked him if they might all be dead and the endless war was really hell. He had responded by asking Kirby why he was being so philosophical (b). He chuckled.

The women looked at each other, not knowing this inside joke. The men returned to their comfortable silence, watching their exhaled smoke scatter in the evening breeze.

Finally, Kirby spoke. "Do ya remember that night ol' Lydecker played the piano…that Irish song?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes I think I hear it…I can't even remember how it went, but then all of a sudden I'm walkin' down the street or I'm at work, an' I'll hear it. I try to find where it's comin' from, but then it's just gone. Strange, huh."

Saunders didn't reply. The women shook their heads. Neither of them had ever heard the name 'Lydecker' mentioned.

"Ya know, Sarge, other than V.E. Day, that night was the best time of that whole damn war."

"As I remember, you had more than a few fun nights."

Kirby laughed. "Yeah, there was a couple that helped relieve the tension; that proved to me that I was still alive…but that night…it was special."

Saunders sighed as he traveled back in his mind to that moment in time. "You're right. It was special."

"I've been thinkin' 'bout namin' my kid after ol' Lydecker…if it's a boy…Joseph L. Kirby. 'Cause, ya know, after we're gone, there ain't nobody who's gonna even remember 'im." He was quiet for a moment and then looked at his sergeant. "You weren't thinkin' 'bout namin' a kid after him, were ya?"

The Sarge smiled. "No, I've already got a nephew named Joey…after my brother."

"Well, what do ya think?"

Beth looked surprised. She knew Chip and Kathy had used the names of friends Chip had lost in the war as the middle names of their two sons, Charles Grady and John Gilbert, but this was something out of the blue. 'So THIS was why it was so urgent for Bill to drive all this way to talk to Chip,' she thought.

Saunders didn't respond right away. Then he said something his mother had told him long ago, "Names are important. They help us remember an' honor the people who made a difference in our lives.So, if you decide to do that, Kirby, you've got to call the boy Joe or Joey, an' when he's old enough to understand, you'll have to tell him about Lydecker."

"Yeah, I know. Is that what ya plan to do with your boys?"

"They were named after good men an' I want them to be proud of their names."

"Ol' Lydecker was a good man, too…an' maybe callin' my kid after him will help to keep the abyss away."

From the kitchen, the smells of a delicious meal reached the men. They crushed out their cigarettes and went into the house before they were even called to the table.

It had been a wonderful evening, full of the funny stories, laughter and gentle ribbing that close friends share. Kathy and Chip wanted them to spend the night because it was so late and they had a long drive home. But, Bill had to be to work at the bowling alley at noon and he said he would rather drive and then sleep for a few hours. Beth and Bill said their good-byes and disappeared into the darkness.

Chip and Kathy watched them leave. After they closed the door, he pulled her into his arms. "Kirby a father," he whispered. "Who would've ever guessed!"

He began to waltz her around the room to a Strauss tune he softly hummed.

Kathy laughed. "Why can't you just admit you like classical music?"

He stopped dancing and suddenly looked embarrassed, like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. How could he explain it to her? Admitting he liked the music would take him back, not to the Sunday afternoons with the family before the war, but to that special night when Lydecker had played the piano. It would force him to put his guard down to her, and once it was down, he knew she would no longer see him as just 'Chip.'

Eventually, he would also be 'Sgt. Saunders' to her, the guy who had given orders that cost other men their lives; the guy who had seen his friends blown to bits; the guy who had taken lives without a second thought. He had promised himself that she would never know about that person. She would hate that person.

"All right, I'll forgive you," she said with a smile. "It's late. Let's go to bed."

They went up the stairs with their arms around each other's waists. Once in bed, they snuggled together, enjoying each other's company. She ran her fingers over the scar at the base of his neck as she often did when they were lying in bed talking.

"This was such a nice evening…I'm glad your mother watched the boys tonight."

"Mmmm…me, too."

"I'm so happy for Beth and Bill."

"Mmmm…me, too."

"Chip, can I ask you something?...Don't do that now, this is serious."

"I don't want to be serious…Alright, shoot."

"The soldier you and Bill were talking about tonight; Bill called him ol' Lydecker…How old was he?"

Chip looked at her as if he had been shot. He sat bolt upright. When he answered, his voice cracked with emotion. "Joey…Joey was just seventeen."

He slumped and put his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands. "I tried so hard…" he said with such anguish.

Kathy was stunned by his reaction. She immediately sat up and put her arms around him, trying her best to calm him down.

His heart was pounding. He broke into a cold sweat as the dam began to crumble. Everything he had seen and done…all of the pain and suffering he and the rest of the squad had endured…all of the grief… for Grady Long, for Gil Hanley, for Joey Lydecker, for all of the other men he had known who never made it home…and for Ann Tinsley (c)…all of the times he had not allowed himself to grieve because he had been afraid that if he started, he would not be able to stop…it was all going to burst forth.

"I know you did, sweetie." Kathy continued to hold him, trying to comfort him, trying to understand, trying not to react to her own fear… "I'm so sorry if I…"

He pushed her away and got out of bed. "Shit…I need a drink of water," he said.

But, he didn't go into the bathroom. She heard him go downstairs. In a moment she smelled the cigarette smoke and heard him pacing. After a while, once he had regained control, he returned.

"Are you all right?" she quietly asked.

"Yeah, fine. It's late; we'd better get some sleep."

She lay awake for a long time, watching him sleep. Finally, she brushed a lock of golden hair off her husband's forehead and gently kissed him. "You're a good man, Chip Saunders," she softly said.

On the following Monday evening, Kathy tried to decide what to do. Chip wouldn't be home until late. He would go straight from his seminar in Contemporary American Short Stories to work. Soon he would have his B.A. in Literature, thanks to the G.I. Bill. He didn't know what he was going to do with that degree, he claimed, although he was already a much sought-after study partner and tutor. However, he rarely worked with anyone who wasn't a Vet. She once asked him why, and he had said that he "had had enough of pulling kids' asses out of tight spots to last a lifetime."

She wandered around the house, checking in on the sleeping boys and putting away their toys. She stopped at Chip's desk and scanned the bookcase behind it. There were two neat piles of ASE (d) books; a few he had brought home from the war and the rest were ones he had bought at yard sales and flea markets, regardless of their condition. One of those funny looking books, How Green Was My Valley (e), he always kept on his desk. She picked it up and flipped through the pages, then carefully replaced it. Of all the books in the bookcase, including the other ASE books, she didn't know why this particular one resonated so much with him.

She wandered into the kitchen and sat down by the telephone. Although she had made up her mind, she still hesitated. At last, she picked up the receiver and dialed the number.

"Hello…"

"Connie, hi…it's Kathy Saunders…how are you and Jim?"

"We're fine, Kathy…Chip and the boys?"

"Everyone is doing well."

"Did you hear Beth and Bill's news? Isn't it wonderful!"

"Yes, they came for a visit last week. Beth is so excited…...Connie, I was wondering if Jim has a few minutes to talk…well, actually, it might take a bit longer than that."

"He's been studying, but he could really use a break. Just a minute, let me check…"

In the background she could hear, "Jimmy, it's Kathy Saunders…I don't know. She said that everything was fine."

Jim came to the phone. "Hi, Kathy. Is everything okay?"

"Yes…I'm sorry to bother you. Connie said you were studying."

"Yeah, but there're only so many times you can go over the location and function of the cranial nerves without losing your mind. What can Ah do for you?"

Kathy hesitated once again. Jim waited patiently, as he had so many times when he had talked to his squad mates. Finally, she said, "Doc…tell me about Joey Lydecker."

The medic stiffened. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew that as before, as always, he had to take care of and protect his squad mate, his sergeant. Their bonds were unbreakable.

The silence hung in the air.

Kathy realized that this was one of the things her husband and his friends might never share.

##########

"The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which they once lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own."

The Winter Ghosts

Kate Mosse

(a) Dvořák Opus 96

(b) Reference to "Pvt. Joseph Lydecker, Part 2 – Family"

(c) Reference to 'The Furlough,' season 5 of "Combat!"

(d) Historical Note: The ASE (the Armed Service Edition) supplied 50-77,000 copies each of about thirty different paperback-type books every month for service members at no cost to them beginning in September 1943 through June 1947. Titles ranged from contemporary fiction to historical novels, mysteries, books of humor and westerns as well as numerous other genres. The books were specially designed to fit in a breast or hip pocket and were light-weight. These books were shipped to distribution points selected by the Army and Navy and from there made their way onto ships leaving port, small islands in the Pacific, hospitals, and troops stationed on the front lines throughout the ETO. Sources: When Books Went to War by Molly Guptill Manning and Pvt. James G. Lawrence (the author's father), who served in the ETO.

(e) How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn, ASE book H-239

I want to extend a special thank-you to Catherine McLaughlin, MEd, a licensed psychologist, for her invaluable assistance in the writing of this chapter. Ms. McLaughlin has over twenty years of experience in the recognition and treatment of trauma. – Queen's Bishop


End file.
